


orange soda, aged 200 years

by PaperBirdhouses



Series: an abrasively sharp lullaby and other things [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Fluff and Angst, M/M, alpha dave and karkat adopt dirk, something something something homestuck logic whatever right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29395005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperBirdhouses/pseuds/PaperBirdhouses
Summary: Dirk stays the night at Dave and Karkat's place and hears Karkat singing. This instigates an anime flashback.
Relationships: Dave Strider & Dirk Strider, Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Dirk's Bro | Alpha Dave Strider & Dirk Strider, Dirk's Bro | Alpha Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Karkat Vantas & Dirk Strider
Series: an abrasively sharp lullaby and other things [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2173260
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	orange soda, aged 200 years

Trolls don’t sing. Not in the way that humans do. Dirk doesn’t think that they have the vocal folds capable of what a human would define as singing. A warfaring species wouldn’t have much need for it at all. Still, Dirk knew they had some vague equivalent for singing that a troll could emit, depending on the situation. A troll would warble or trill and call it music. In more personal settings, deep, throaty chirps for comfort. 

If Dirk closes his eyes and concentrates hard enough, he could remember the distinct looping and vaguely melodious chirps which often lulled him to sleep as a child. He only ever tried when he was alone, and never found the need to tell anyone about it. 

He is surprised to hear it again all these years later. Overtaken by an all too familiar sense of longing, Dirk tugs at the hem of his borrowed snuggleplane and nudges his head against the arm of the couch, closer to where the stairs led to the upstairs bedroom. He focuses all of his attention on listening, barely heeding the fabric’s stretch and tear under his fingers. 

Other than being with Dave, Dirk doesn’t know Karkat (or rather, this version of Karkat) very well. Not to say that Dirk knows this Dave very well, either. Dirk hardly had a chance to speak with the guy enough to get a solid imprint on his voice. 

But the sound was unmistakable. Warm, rolling purrs interrupted by trills with no discernible cadence. Dirk supposed he should feel thankful that he hadn’t inherited Karkat’s sense of rhythm. Occasionally the soothing sounds would be interrupted by a quiet interlude of conversation. Even a flight of stairs away, Dirk could differentiate between Karkat’s sharp buzz and Dave’s smooth, drawling murmur. 

Unbiddenly, under the aluminum makeshift ceiling that still faintly cloyed the air with the scent of preserved peach, he thinks back to his guardians. He often did when he was trying to get some sleep. And inevitably his thoughts careened to Roxy. Dirk sidesteps his feelings of failing her and their friends and muses how he recalled much more than she from their lives Before. 

In contrast to Dirk’s picture-perfect recollection of his childhood with his guardians, Roxy only ever remembered the vague scent of lavender and the ever present softness of wool. So much of it, all piled atop her by a hand that was not so soft, yet still kind. Dirk wondered if it was part of the reason that Roxy felt so drawn to him. As if she could get closer to him, in some way, she could get closer to the world that they’d lost. 

Dirk didn’t tell that he remembered more of his life from Before than he was letting on. And still Roxy somehow discerned from nothing that did. She never said anything, though. At such junctions, it was hard to tell if he or Roxy was being more gracious. 

Regardless of whether Roxy knew it, Dirk could always remember. Every birthday, every 12th’s perigee, every breakfast. Dave often settled for a sugary concoction he would fool himself into thinking was coffee until Karkat slammed food in front of him. Dave rarely had time for a proper breakfast in between writing, editing, and scoring his movies. Such is the life of a world famous supernaturally talented director, he would insist. No rest for the rebellion, he would say. Karkat always glared when he said that. Dirk silently poked at his eggs, unwilling to ever intrude on the ritual. 

Dirk could at any moment relive any part of his childhood. Much of it was spent fleeing from safehouse to safehouse, living under the same roof of numerous humans and trolls all working towards the same goal of taking down HIC. Not the most stable upbringing by any of the other kids’ standards, but Dave and Karkat did pretty well for members of a rebellion. 

The apartment he took to LOTAK was the last, and where they spent the longest time. It was peaceful, mostly. Not so many people coming in and out. He spent most evenings on the couch with his Bro and lusus, as Dave referred to Karkat to annoy him. 

They would take turns deciding the activity. Dave usually put on an obscure movie that Karkat would protest to but quickly became invested in. On his nights, Karkat demanded that there be dedicated reading time, insisting that Dirk had a “mushy, developing thinkpan” that should not be rotted every night by the trash which Dave insisted on showcasing. 

No matter what, the couple curled up on the couch, while Dirk preferred the openness of the floor. He would crawl up to nestle with them, before itching to crawl back out, sometimes for just a few minutes and sometimes he would stay still between them for hours.

Karkat let him come and go freely, though occasionally Dave would snatch, clutching him to the couch cushions. 

“Whoops,” Dave said. “Thought you were slipping there. My bad, little dude.”

Dirk didn’t particularly mind, Dave always quickly withdrew his hands when he realized his mistake. Karkat smiled gratefully when Dirk had the tact not to comment. 

Some nights, Dirk pretended to be stuck on a video game level and would stare unblinkingly up at Karkat until the troll would hunker down to sit next to him. He would point at hidden passageways or shout whenever Dirk had to react and dodge quickly. 

In truth, Dirk quickly learned how to progress the levels, but found comfort in Karkat’s overbearing frame pressed into his side. Karkat had known that Dirk didn’t actually need his help, but he still unfailingly sat down with the boy. And, in a cyclone of utter bullshit, Karkat knew that Dirk knew that Karkat knew that Dirk knew, yet the tradition remained unchanged. 

Dirk’s last night home was muffled in an artificial quiet.

His parents sent him to bed early, saying he had a big day ahead of him. Dirk was only eleven, but living with Constable Bullshit and Consort Constable Bullshit, their attempts at responsible parenting was almost bone-chilling. 

They were in the kitchen. He never announced his presence, stymied by how silent his normally talkative guardians were. There they sat, on precarious blue pixelated kitchen stools, leaning on each other.

“She can’t be serious,” Dave said, finally.

Karkat clicked and made that same comforting rumbling sound that Dirk now hears muffled behind their closed bedroom door.

“You know it has to be this way.”

“It’s not fair! He’s just a kid!” 

Karkat clutched at Dave’s arm, trying to wedge himself into the other man’s neck between his tensed shoulders and head.

“And this plan makes no sense! Why do we have to stick him in a weird venus flytrap that will probably kill him?!”

“It’s an artifact from The Game, it won’t hurt a Player, that wouldn’t be fair.”

“What about The Game is fair?!”

Dave took a shuddering sigh.

“And he’s gonna be all alone there.” Dave dropped his head to his hands. “This is so fucked! He won’t even have Roxy!”

“It’s better than the Condesce getting to them before they’re ready,” Karkat said sharply, giving Dirk the impression that they’d had this conversation before. 

“No.” Dave shook his head. “We would protect him, there’s no way that fish bitch would ever get past us to Dirk.”

Dave looked tired for a reason beyond the early hour. Dirk swallowed, thinking that perhaps if they didn’t have to focus on him, Dave and Karkat and the rebellion would all be better off. There were hardly any other children at the safehouses, after all. 

“Dave, you know better than anyone that Rose-”

“Of course I know, don’t you think I know?! Goddamn it, Karkat!”

It was silent again for a long moment.

“I’m sorry.” A chair scrapes against the tiled floor.

“I’m sorry,” Dave repeated.

Dirk heard a crash of glass on the kitchen tile and took his chance to retreat back to his room.

“I told you to be careful of where you leave cups, you absolute animal.” Dirk heard Dave’s sly smirk from the hall. 

“Cease your insipid garbage chute of a voice box, Dave. Maybe if humans could engineer stronger tableware your planet wouldn’t be chafing under the HIC’s gross fish bulge.”

“So you think the reason of our planetary demise is because of our inferior glassware and not the insane bloodthirsty dictator who seeks the genocide of all earthlings.”

Dirk lingered by his door, straining to hear anything else, but he heard only the sounds of glass scraping against the floor. He slid onto bed, where he laid silently, arms stiff at his sides and unable to summon the energy to crawl under the snuggleplane. 

A few minutes passed, and he heard the door creak, and still did not move. Karkat sat on the bed and gently pulled off his shades. He wasn’t surprised by Dirk’s eyes staring back at him. 

Dave and Karkat were unbearably honest with him, all of the time. Now, from watching John’s interactions with Dad, Dirk guesses that wasn’t the most traditional relationship to have with one’s caretakers. He assumes that when a parent knows that they don’t have a long time with their kid, there’s no time for secrets. 

Dirk tried to ask what was going on, and was surprised when Karkat silently shook his head.

Karkat asked for everything that Dirk remembers that Sollux ever told him about secure networks and data caches. An inappropriate question for bedtime, but the shake of the troll’s ruby eyes prompted Dirk to answer anyway. 

He could hear Dave pacing the hall, shuffling between the doorway and back out. Eventually, he came into the room, and Dirk looked up from his lap. He was trying to savor the feeling of Karkat fussing over his hair. Trying to count to the nonsensical pattern of the strokes along his temple. Trying to breathe entirely with his nose so the scent of his caretaker would get stuck.

Karkat sang. A simple tune, whirring up and down, sounding too similar to a swarm of cicadas to be comforting to any other child. Dirk pressed his ear to Karkat’s chest, so he could feel the buzz more than hear it. Karkat paused his tune for a moment to look up at Dave, who hung uncertainly at the door just as Dirk did minutes before.

At Karkat’s nod, Dave nimbly vaulted over where they were bundled up and slid along the wall Dirk’s bed was pushed up against. Dave’s hand joined Karkat’s on Dirk’s head. The locks were a tangle of shock white. In a day’s time, Dirk untangled them alone.

The next day, Dave left first, giving Dirk a long hug. Dave was an emotional person, and not nearly as hard to read as he pretended to be, but even this was nearly unbearable. He clutched the boy’s head close against the indent of his shoulder and held him there as long as he could, parting with a jittery exhale. Seeing Dave like that was unsettling, and beyond the sadness of the parting, Dirk’s last memory with Dave always pressed a heavy weight on his sternum. 

Dave stood, turning to Karkat with a weighted look. Karkat sniffled and grasped both of Dave’s arms at the elbows, tethering the man close. Dave drifted closer, only for a scant while. Dirk felt like he was intruding. After some seconds stretched to fit lifetimes, Dave swung Karkat’s hands to loose them, to hold them, and dropped them to step out the door. 

He left with a weighty clap on Dirk’s shoulder. It was so casual, that for a moment, the boy pretended that Dave would be back home in time for movie night.

Karkat tore through the apartment, and while Dirk was still trying to process what was happening, whole swaths of their home were eaten by the pulsating lotus, the same one that Dirk was never, ever to touch. Usually, it was still, other than the blinking numbers at the base of the statue. Dirk assumed it to be a shockingly wholesome and normal decorative fixture that was repurposed from the dying human culture all around them. Perhaps Karkat had gotten it before giving up and succumbing to Dave’s weirdass dilapidated jpeg sensibilities. Or maybe it was a wedding gift, from a nonexistent human friend as a housewarming gift. 

Karkat lined the lotus with Dirk’s blanket, the one he had used since he was a grub, and turned to him with a grim expression. Karkat bodily picked him up, and held him close, with Dave’s same desperation.

“I’m sorry, _prijana_ **,** ” Dirk remembers, “this universe is too fucked up its own ass for us to stay together.”

Dirk didn’t say anything, trembling under Karkat’s frantic grooming. The troll smoothed his face, over and over before cupping his face and pressing his forehead into his.

Karkat held his gaze and sobbed.

“Dave and I love you very, very much. We always will.”

Dirk wanted to say something. He would regret for years that he couldn’t. The words simply could not form.

He heard the low-pitched whines of the imperial drones approaching. Loud, ominous clanging sounds shook the building, and Karkat broke eye contact to hiss at something hovering by the window.

Karkat fiddles with the flower once more, before giving him one last watery smile, he whispers in his alien tongue, “ _ May we see each other in dreams.” _

The last thing that Dirk heard before the petals ensconced him in their timeless embrace was a screeching battlecry. It made the boy jump, Karkat was an angry dude, he had basically been yelling ever since he crashed onto Earth, but Dirk never heard him so enraged. 

Something caught in his throat, Dirk was still mute, he couldn’t say one thing. And the petals opened again, and the world around him was changed. 

He didn’t cry. 

He thought they wouldn’t have wanted him to. Dirk eventually found it in himself to shimmy out of the lotus, its petals already wilting away their plastic sheen, to pace aimlessly around and round his empty home.

His first few days he spent scavenging around the apartment. Under the centuries of dust and debris, he found caches of food and supplies. Over the years, he found more and more corners of the apartment, unclaimed by the chaos and well-hidden under piles of shitty jpeg paraphernalia. They also left him a computer, installed with a few sparse applications, one being Pesterchum. Before they established the link to the Earth’s old internet, Roxy was the only other person online. 

In one of their last acts of kindness, his guardians left him a lot to parse through, everything they could get their hands on about The Game, which wasn’t very much at all. There was a particular tome written in Karkat’s gray clumsy blocked writing, interspersed with the red messy scrawl of Dave writing sarcastic quips, to be answered in turn by Karkat until the composite journal was filled mostly with their squabbles rather than anything useful.

Dirk knows it's tucked away somewhere secure in his sylladex, the spine is now a creased wreck barely holding together. He doesn’t take it out much anymore, too afraid that if he held it, it would break apart in his hands. 

Dirk breathes heavily through his nose. He needs to stop thinking. Karkat’s song helps, and soon Dirk mercifully drifts into a dreamless sleep.

He wakes to a loud clang from the kitchenette, followed by a low string of curses. Dave is there, hands held uselessly over a ground zero of pots and pans. Karkat’s stomps preceded his approach, and the troll was already shouting before Dirk could get a word in. 

“Dave! Would it kill you to be at least a little more careful, you absolute animal?” Karkat is already crouched on the floor, gathering the cookware into his arms.

Dave continues to ineffectively hover. 

“Aw come on, man. I was trying to be a nice loving boywife and cook you a delicious homemade breakfast of weird bugs wrapped in larvae or whatever. A nice troll omelette. Damn, how delicious would that shit be. Isn’t that weird, though? Sentient life has this weird obsession with reuniting parents and child on the plate in the world’s most depressing and morbid family reunion. Karkat, are you listening?” 

While Dave rambles, Karkat moves closer to where Dirk was standing to open a cabinet.

Karkat’s eyes are bright, a warm gray that has just begun to show streaks of red. Dirk is taken aback by the sense of obligation he feels by his gaze. Like he had to own up and talk about the last half odd decade of his life, about Roxy, about Jake, about how even as a Hero, even as a God, he could not bring himself to have enough faith to do anything at all, all while doing too much.

He thinks he would like to, if he could. 

Dave is talking again.

“I’m just saying, with my goddamn acute need to provide breakfast, I think between any of us I am the prime caregiver.”

Karkat rolls his eyes and nods dismissively, sleep addling his brain too much to contribute or hector Dave in any meaningful way.”

“Dad of the year over here, I would be so amazing at that shit, man.”

Karkat hums again, still crouched by Dirk’s feet. 

“You would be,” Dirk’s mouth says without consulting his brain first.

Dave doesn’t look at him, but his shoulders tense. Karkat stands blinks curiously, and Dirk feels that weakness again.

“You both would be.” 

Dave is still, and next to him Karkat’s expression is loud and open. 

“Best parents I’ve ever had.” Dirk tries to joke. 

Instead of laughing, Karkat gets misty eyed and gasps dramatically. Mockingly, Dave shoves at him, ignoring how tentatively his own shit eating grin hung around his mouth. Karkat snaps his jaw at him, but leans back into Dave’s touch. Dirk’s heart clenches at the familiarity. 

**Author's Note:**

> remember how an integral part of dirk and roxys characters and their character development is centered around their deep seated loneliness from being isolated their entire lives? what if i fucked all that up for shits and giggles?  
> i kinda feel like theres more to be done here but if i dont post this now this is just gonna stay in the drafts for like 4 months and i dont wanna put myself thru that so here u go lol. also yall while writing this i watched the dirkkat manifesto and let me tell u that really absolutely put me in the weirdest headspace trying to finish this up.  
> ANYWAY i hope you guys enjoyed this one, i might add a little more to this,,,, perhaps ;) or write some other davekat. i have stuff in my files but idk if theyre actually anything. idk well see lolol  
> funfact while writing i had dirk be much younger for when he had to leave, but decided to keep w the 11/11 alpha kids theme instead


End file.
